Me And Y8

2-Shipping like last year

"I can put a collar around this pretty neck of yours instead"-Book

"Are we flirting or starting a fight?" -Quote

"Think I'll miss you forever. Like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky"-Song

After that awkward shit, which already gave my new tutor a weird impression of me and Malik, it was time for math. Why do I feel like shit's gonna be fucking embarrassing?

I was fucking right.

Remember how I started calling him silverboy? In a Junior Maths Challenge?

Well, the teacher that helped us go through that fucking torture barged into math randomly. And it goes like this.

"Hello, how's school going?" He asks.

"Boring as fu-heck because I hate math." Zayn says.

Laughter erupts throughout the classroom.

"It's going pretty well but mostly a bit boring." Leah lightens up the mood.

"Okay, which form is this?" The teacher asks.

"8G." A symphony of voices state.

"8G. Wait, 8G! Does this mean that people from 7G are in here?" He asks.

"Yeah. Pretty ironic of them to put me in a class with Mia and Ava." Pedro drawls out.

"I just feel like this class is special. Popular for a lot of reasons and- where is Siyana? No, I haven't seen her! I feel like I'ma have a panic attack. Where is she?"

"Uhh, here." I call out, waving my hand to him.

Not wanting any unnecessary attention.

"Hi Siyana! How are you doing? Still up to smashing the UKMT's this year? Mr. Reid, she got a 101 in UKMT's last year." He talks to me as if it's normal. But it fucking isn't. I don't care if I gotta 101. Maybe I care a little bit but stop fucking embarrassing me.

"Woah! Impressive. A 101? I was proud as a child for getting an 89!" Mr. Reid exclaims.

"I know right! And where is Malik? As in the one who's joined to Siyana's hip? I'm surprised considering they always have to be in close proximity." He states in a monotone but slightly concerned voice? What in the "don't want to be shipped on the first day yet but my math teacher is gonna" is this?

"I'm here!" Malik shouts, contrastingly wanting attention. Why is he smirking?

"Yep, this is the one that she claims to hate, you know the stuff I told you?"

"Yeah, definitely see the potential that you told. Great pair." Mr. Reid says, chucking out the last part in a quieter tone.

"Well, bye to 8G and Salik, if it works out." Our UKMT teacher blurts out.

There's no fucking way that was real. My jaw is on the floor as I'm processing it. Mr. Reid continues teaching but everyone smirking at me and Malik. Is this normal? Clearly not! He totally doesn't ship #Salikforlife. What have I gotten into?

"Siyana's mouth is wide open for that-" Hazza is interrupted by a low, menacing threat.

"I fucking dare you to finish that sentence, Almansoori. The last time we went through this wasn't fun for you. Maybe, a little bit fun for me. I love punching assholes. Hold up, whose cock is she wide open for now? Only one right answer." He smirks while his words hold a dark promise.

That was a bit. Uhh, yeah. But there's only one thing going through my mind. On my knees.

Anyways.

He's actually so fine.

"Yours, Awad. She's all yours." Hazza utters, quietly.

"I am not his fucking property you little manwhore. Hazza, I fucking understand that you're a good for nothing scumbag who doesn't have another purpose in life but to prove that me and my academic rival are compatible which we fucking aren't, you slutty-ass motherfucking fatass cunt, tiny dick energy looking bitch. But kindly, shut the fuck up." I retort.

Gagged the fuck outta them!

"Atta bitch!" Malik whispers, quiet enough to cause goosebumps to trail over skin.

I like this, I love this side of him.

And we frenzy past through the day till the end of the day. Till the last period. History.

Dejá Vu, huh?

Malik and Ava are supposed to be seated together on a table according to the seating plan, I sit with Zayn and Evelyn.

"Why are there thirteen stripes on the USA flag?" Mr. Kingston asks.

I raise my hand, high up in the air. "Of course, Siyana knows the answer. Come on Siyana, enlighten us." He says.

"It's because 13 is Taylor Swift's lucky number!" I exclaim.

And Sinamika fucking giggles. Ew.

"Oh, okay. Well, advise me if you have more facts about Taylor Swift. Why am I talking about Taylor Swift anyways. There's nothing to her other than her love life." He says dismissing my answer.

"Mr. Kingston, English is spoken in USA, right?" She asks in that screechy, annoying voice of hers. Yup, it is Sinamika.

"No, Arabic." Malik replies, sarcasm dripping down from his tone.

I snap my head towards that idiot and ask "Really Malik? Thought it was Dutch, like Tyke."

"Nah, it's Romanian like Mia." He retaliates. I love this.

"German."

"Portuguese."

"Russian."

"Telugu."

"What? Afrikaans."

"Chinese."

"Korean."

"Japanese."

"Tagalog."

"Malay."

"Bengali."

"Urdu."

"Italian."

"Thai. Any more?"

"Nope, all of them are Indian and speak Hindi like Habeel? He speaks Hindi right?" I clap back.

"Also, like you." He answers.

"Guess the language I speak turns on my friend." Habeel sneakily joins into the conversation. Fuck off, Habeel.

I smirk and he gives me a smug smile. I turn back around facing the screen and I can feel him running his hand through his hair. Great.

An amazing end to the first day of Y8.